Night Shift
by Strandstorken
Summary: As the day shift draws to a close, Flack and Stella set out on a rogue investigation to find a missing informant, suspecting he had ended up in the hands of the people he informed on. Instead the two detectives run straight into an ambush. Danger, injuries, the usual fanfic stuff. :P Implied Mac/Stella.
1. Chapter 1

After a year and a half of unfinished, unpublished stories, I finally managed to pull myself together to finish a multi-chapter fic.

Huge thanks to Lily Moonlight for help with the plot and RandomDanishCitizen for proof-reading and moral support.

 **Chapter 1:**

The precinct began to clear out as day shift made way for night shift. Plans for dinner were being made among a group of rookies while others left for home. Flack, however, stayed by his desk and at least pretended not to feel the slight twinge of hunger as he leaned over his reports once again.

After spending his morning in the field, he had finally managed to clear a few hours in the afternoon to do a bit of off the record research. With the help of a colleague, who knew he would take an interest, certain reports had landed on his desk early that morning. To his colleague, they were reports of minor drug-related crimes with no apparent connection and spanning the past four months. However, two of the names that had popped up during the investigation of the most recent case, were quite familiar to Flack and the MOs in all cases were similar enough that Flack deemed it necessary to spend his afternoon by a desk, looking for connections rather than in the field, doing what he loved most: Chasing after criminals and mocking the CSIs for their excessive love of science.

The last time he saw the two suspects, they had walked out of the courtroom with their associates – all free men due to a chain of custody screw-up, that left the case resting on the statement of a confidential informant, whose credibility was no better than that of the men standing trial.

Refusing any form of witness protection, the CI, Randy, had since made a life for himself, working construction jobs in the city. Last Flack heard from him, he was getting married and saving up to buy a house.

Flack, however, hadn't been able to let go of the case and even though these new crimes gave him an opportunity to set things right, something bothered him. When he had worked the original case, these two goons were part of a well-connected gang. What were they doing roughing up low level dealers? Even if the case against them cost them a great deal of money, two years were more than enough for them to get back on their feet. And why were only two of them involved?

Adding that to the list of questions that certainly wouldn't be answered by sitting around staring at those reports all night, he shoved his chair back and ran a hand through his hair. He could go grab a bite to eat and then take one last look at the reports before calling it a day.

He had only just pushed the reports into his drawer, when the officer, who had given him the reports in the first place, made his way into the precinct followed by a young woman.

"Hey Flack" he called out as he approached Flack's desk. "You might want to handle this."

Despite having promised himself dinner, he gestured for the young woman to take a seat across from him. He reached for his memo book in his coat pocket, but the woman didn't even offer him the chance to ask what it was about, before she began her story.

"My name is Maya Thomson." She said. "I understand that you used to work with my husband?"

"Your husband?" Flack asked, even though he had a suspicion who her husband was. He saw no need to fuel the woman's concerns, by letting her think there was any reason he wouldn't be surprised to hear of him on that day of all days.

"Randy. He was a confidential informant for a while." She explained. Flack wasn't sure if it was simply a remnant of his own guilt for not being able to properly close the case, but he was certain he saw anger on the young woman's face.

"Yeah, I worked with him." He said, wanting to add that he was a great guy, but it seemed futile, stupid even. "Has something happened?"

"I don't know." She said. "He's missing."

"Have you filed a missing persons report?" He asked, diverting his attention to his memo book where he scribbled down a few pointless phrases to avoid the look of exasperation on her face.

"He hasn't been missing long enough." She told him. "And before you ask what makes me think something has happened to him, I just know it. They came to see him last night; I think he went with them. I haven't seen him since."

"You know, I have to ask; who's 'they'?" He asked, even though he already knew. His brain was already busy making connections between the cases that had landed on his desk that morning, and Randy's sudden disappearance. It had to all be connected, and Randy's disappearance might just hold the answer to all the questions he hadn't been able to answer earlier.

"The men he ratted on for you." She said. Even though she appeared calm, it was clear even to him that it wasn't just his own guilty conscience that had him detecting a hint of anger. "They've been trying to get him back in, for whatever reason. He told them off, but they wouldn't let him go."

"You have no idea why they wanted him back in?" His question seemed pointless but as he made the connections between cases, he knew it all lead back to Randy working for him years earlier and he hoped against hope for any indication that this wasn't a case of revenge.

"No. He said something about his connections." She said, "Listen detective, I know how these people deal with rejection. Hell, you know better than anyone. I'm telling you something bad has happened."

"We can't officially open a case as long as he hasn't been missing longer." He told her. He watched almost numbly as she stood up, the chair tumbling backwards by the force. It wasn't until both her palms slammed down on his desk, that he snapped out of it.

"He risked his life for your case. All of this is happening because of that case." She said. "Find him detective, you owe him that."

It took him several minutes to calm her down, but after another half hour she left the precinct, knowing Don had given her his word, that he would do everything he could to find her husband, because he did, in fact, owe him that.

Flack gathered the files under his arm and left the precinct shortly after. Mrs. Thomson had left him feeling responsible for the disappearance of her husband, and even though he might not officially be able to do anything yet, protocol wasn't going to stop him this time and he knew exactly who to ask for help. His only concern was, that one of these days there would be consequences beyond a simple reprimand for her if she kept balancing right on the edge of what Mac would consider legitimate police work.

He called her as he headed for his car, figuring that he could at least call ahead when he planned on dropping in to as such a favor of her.

"Hey Stell, are you still at the lab?" He asked right as she answered. He already felt the clock ticking at the back of his mind. If they wanted any shot at finding Randy alive, they had to act fast.

"Yeah," She said. "Why, you got something more exciting than paperwork for me?"

"I need to ask you a favor." He said. He could just imagine the way she would've crossed her arms if they had been talking face to face; her eyebrows slightly lifted, as she waited for him to elaborate. "Off the book."

"Uh huh. So you decided to call Stella's office of shady business?" She asked, drawing a chuckle from him. "Alright, I was just about to leave for the night anyway, why don't you come by the lab and explain this questionable plan of yours?"

At the lab, Stella sat in her office, trying in vain to focus on her paperwork while every movement by the elevator drew her attention away from the task at hand. She knew she should've asked more questions when Don had called her, but she hadn't wanted to push when he was going to come to the lab and explain anyway. Still, she counted the minutes until he finally exited the elevator and made his way to her office.

"Before you start explaining, I need to know," She said, having already turned her chair to face the door. "Are you in trouble?"

"No." He just said, but it was enough for her to breathe a sigh of relief. "Someone I used to work with might be."

He sat down on the corner of her desk and began to explain the situation to her: How the CI had gone missing and how his wife had cornered Flack in the precinct, but most importantly, how he felt responsible for what had happened because the case had gone down the drain.

"I know we'll be able to open a case in the morning, but if this head start is the only thing I can do for Randy, I should at least do that." He said. "Look, if you get into trouble with Mac, I'll take the fall for it. I need your help."

"I get it, Don." She told him, and she really did; she'd had more than her share of that kind of cases. "Let start by tracing his phone, just to rule out any simple explanation."

"Thanks Stell." He said. "I'll owe you for this."

"You bet you will." She said, as she pushed herself up from her chair and led him down the hall. "Though I'll probably get in more trouble with Adam for breaking into his lab while he's not there, than I will with Mac for helping you out."

"Probably." Flack said. A few minutes later they were both in Adam's sacred lab, waiting for his computer to finish running the trace on Randy Thomson's phone.

"Do you think he's still alive?" Stella asked.

"I really don't know." Flack said, even though he sincerely hoped he was. "Nothing in this case makes sense. Why would they even want him back after he betrayed them? I don't buy that they were after his business connections. A gang like that has to have far better connections."

"Hopefully he'll be alive to give us an answer." Stella said as the computer announced that the trace was complete. "We've got a location."

"What do we do now?" Flack asked.

"Well, we can't get back-up for unofficial business." She said, not liking what she was about to say one bit. "Feel like going rogue?"

She knew that if Mac were to have a problem with their endeavor, it was more likely to be with them rushing in on their own than with them looking into a disappearance a few hours early, yet they had very few options.

"Look, if I call Mac on the way and let him know where we're headed, we should be okay to look into it." She said.

"It almost seems too easy." Don said, and Stella could only agree. If this gang really were as connected as Flack said they were, they wouldn't leave their backs exposed like this, but Stella still held on to the possibility of the CI having gone voluntarily.

"It does." She said, though not wanting to dwell too long on the subject she gave Flack a quick pat on the shoulder, before heading past him into the hall. "Come on, I'll give Mac a call on the go."

It had been almost dinnertime when they had left the lab and Flack hoped they could stop for food on their way back, seeing as he had won the right to drive (though only because Stella had been on the phone with Mac when they got to the car).

Mac, who according to Stella had been slightly annoyed with their plan, had insisted on meeting them at the address. That despite the fact that he had been headed out to a crime scene by the river, while Flack and Stella were heading out of town.

Now, almost two hours later, they were finally able to pull over near a small gravel road, that appeared to lead to their destination. Going in without back-up didn't afford them the luxury of driving up to the address and calling attention to themselves, so instead, they decided to walk the last stretch of road in an attempt at arriving somewhat undetected.

Only a few minutes of walking later, they reached what had undoubtedly once been a cute little house, hidden away among a group of trees, but was now no more than rubble that had never been removed and an old garden shed.

"Stell, is it just me or are there lights on in that shed?" Flack asked, already with one hand hovering by the gun holster at his hip. Stella bothered no reply, she didn't need to as they both made their way toward the shed, guns ready as their lack of back-up left both detectives slightly more on edge than they usually would've been.

"You ready?" Flack asked, receiving only a nod in response before he pushed the door to the shed open. Revealing nothing but an empty room. A lit flashlight lying on an old workbench had been what called their attention to the shed, but what soon caught Stella's eye was the small plastic device next to it.

"Is that his phone?" She asked.

"I don't know, might be." Flack said, wanting to approach though he was held back by Stella's hand on his upper arm.

"I'll get my kit. You stay with the evidence." She told him, already headed out of the shed. "But don't contaminate anything."

"We're working off the record and you worry about chain of custody?" He called after her, chuckling as she offered a shrug in response and disappeared in direction of the car.

Heading down the narrow road in the half darkness of the early evening, didn't do much to soothe the uneasy feeling in Stella's gut. Don had been right; it all seemed too neat. Especially after they found the phone lying there, waiting for them like that. She considered, briefly, calling for back-up when she got to the car. After all they had reason to suspect foul play by now, but they would, inevitably, run into an explanation problem, when asked what they were doing out there in the first place.

A cellphone on a workbench would hardly be considered enough to warrant this rogue investigation. Not only would she get herself and Don in trouble, but with Mac on his way, he would take a hit from all of this as well. For now, they'd be better off avoiding back-up.

She would feel a lot better once Mac made it there anyway. At least that's what she tried to convince herself, until she approached the car and heard the sound of a tire blowing.

"What the hell?" She asked.

Drawing her gun, she approached the car a single step at a time, soon able to make out the form of a man as he moved from one of the back tires to one at the front.

She set into a sprint, all thoughts of back-up temporarily forgotten as she got within firing range of the unidentified man.

"Freeze!" She yelled, out of breath. "Don't move"

Seemingly unfazed by her appearance in the darkness, he lunged at her, shoving her out of the way before she could even think to fire a warning shot. She tumbled sideways, careful to hang on to her gun as she fell, while he took off into the darkness, leaving her no hint to where he went.

"Damn it!" She cursed, as she pushed herself back up, already searching around her to find out where he had gone, without any luck.

She took a few moments to compose herself before she rushed off to the car to act on her earlier impulse to call for back-up, before she headed back toward the shed to warn Don, feeling as if every step she took was being carefully watched.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"Can't fault Mac for taking that other call." Hawkes said as he made his way from the muddy riverbank onto more steady ground, where Lindsay was busy packing up evidence to take back to the lab. She had been efficient, casting tire tracks and collecting what little evidence could be found on the shore, while Hawkes had helped the ME's guys free the body from the debris it had been caught on.

"Did you hear what it was?" Lindsay called from the trunk of the SUV, busy loading evidence boxes into the car.

"I think Flack and Stella caught a new case." He said. He knew it was Stella who had called Mac and he had heard Flack's name mentioned, though Mac had sounded less than pleased with the direction of the conversation.

"Wasn't Stella supposed to be off duty by now?" Lindsay asked.

"Well, she's usually the first to work overtime." Hawkes said, loading the few bags of evidence, he had collected by the river, into the car. "I'm surprised she wasn't called out to this scene."

"With what little evidence we've got, she's lucky she wasn't." Lindsay said, shutting the trunk with a loud thud.

"At least we know the body didn't travel far." Hawkes tried to reason, but even he wasn't the least bit comforted. Both he and Lindsay were working overtime, and by the looks of this case, they wouldn't be going home within the next few hours.

"Well, it's a start." She said. "Come on, let's get back."

As Lindsay pulled into traffic a few minutes later, they were both unaware that the car that had been parked half a block from the crime scene made the same maneuver. They were both just relieved to be away from the wind by the river and instead inside the rapidly warming car.

They passed time discussing their case, both hoping that the autopsy would give them something to work with, but their conversation was cut short when Lindsay again checked the mirror and found that the car that had been behind them for a while suddenly seemed to be driving too close to them.

Wanting to put some distance between them and the impatient driver behind them, Lindsay sped up, thinking nothing more of the guys behind them, until they once again were on their tail, approaching the intersection.

Hawkes, too, had noticed the car behind them as the driver revved up the engine, while Lindsay moved to slow down. Driving just a few feet from their bumper, their pursuers allowed them no space to slow down, or stop for red at the, thankfully, not very busy intersection.

"They're trying to crash us." She half-shouted as she attempted to navigate around the few cars waiting at the red light, but the driver behind them wasn't going to let her maneuver out of this.

Hawkes heard the screeching of tires as a single driver crossing the intersection forced his car to a halt to let them through, but Hawkes' attention was forced elsewhere as the pursuing driver brought his car to collide with the side of the SUV, forcing Lindsay to veer off course.

* * *

Meanwhile, A few hours outside the city, Don made his way around the back of the shed, wanting to make sure no one was lying in wait for them somewhere nearby. When Stella had gone to get her forensics kit from the car, he hadn't considered splitting up a bad idea. Clearly there was no one else there, except after he had stood by himself for a few minutes, looking around, he kept noticing more and more possible hiding spots.

He had only just reached the far side of the shed, when a sound much like a gunshot, though far too quiet, caught him off guard. Spinning around to look for the source, he was met with a hit to the side of his head with something hard. He felt himself fall sideways, grabbing at the wall of the shed to steady himself, though he had already lost hold of his gun. Before he could even move to pick it up, the same man who had struck him in the head shoved him against the wall, the gun, that undoubtedly had caused Flack to see flashes of light, now fixed at his head.

Flack didn't doubt that he was one of the gang-members he had tried to lock up years earlier, but it was little more than a gut feeling as the man's face was hidden behind a hood and large dark glasses.

"Nice welcome party." Flack threw at him, though his cocky exterior cracked, as he had to struggle not to give in to the dizziness and slip down the wall he stood against.

"Just cooperate detective." His attacker said. He appeared calm, but his voice was urgent, nervous even.

"What do you want?" Flack asked. Scanning his surroundings for a means to get out of the situation, though his best chance in that moment seemed to be Stella.

"Just a couple of names. You remember Randy Thomson?" The man asked, seeming to gain confidence by the second as Flack continued causing him very little trouble.

"Yeah. Happen to know where he is?" Flack asked, trying in vain to blink away the sharp pain behind his eyes.

"No clue." He said, though Flack knew otherwise. "I need the name of his supplier."

"I'm not in the business of aiding drug dealers." Flack said.

"In what way do you think you have a choice here, detective?"

Nearby, Stella's bad gut feeling hadn't lessened as she made her way back up the gravel road, half running to get to Flack in a rush, but careful not to move faster than she was still able to keep an eye on her surroundings. Even with back-up now on the way, she knew being caught off guard could prove fatal.

As she got closer there was no sight of Flack's silhouette in the door to the shed where she had left him, nor was he anywhere to be seen in the surrounding area.

She resisted the urge to call out his name and instead tightened her grip on her gun. Approaching the small building she hoped to god Mac would show up soon; in fact she was more than ready to admit that going in on their own hadn't been wise.

She heard voices around the back of the shed, as she got nearer; one definitely belonged to Flack, the other she didn't recognize. She didn't need to, to know that they weren't just having a casual conversation.

She made her way closer painfully slowly until she was able to see Flack held at gunpoint by the man whose voice she hadn't recognized. Another few steps and she stood behind him, her gun aimed at the back of his head.

"Put the gun down!" She demanded with as much force as she could manage.

He hesitated at first and she held her breath. If it came down to it he could easily overpower her, no matter how well she stood her ground.

"Put it down!" She repeated. As he finally lowered the weapon, she carefully reached for it with one hand but her action was interrupted when Flack staggered dangerously, reaching out for something to steady himself by. Finding nothing, he fell forwards.

Worried that he could be seriously hurt, Stella jumped in just in time to help him regain his balance, allowing his attacker to run away.

"Damn it." Flack cursed, having already regained his senses somewhat. Rather than wait for back-up like Stella had thought he would, given his injury that had a drop of blood trickling down his temple, he set off after their perp.

"Flack!" She called after him as she too set off in a sprint. She couldn't let him be caught alone with that guy again, but the man she had interrupted sabotaging their car earlier, had other plans for her. She had barely made it around the shed when he leapt at her from the side of the building, crashing both of them to the ground.

Pinned under the weight of him, she groped around the dirt, hoping her gun had somehow landed within reach when it had tumbled from her hand during the fall, though before she had a chance to find it, her attacker pushed himself up, pulling her with him by the arm.

She yanked her arm from his grasp determined to fight back with everything she had, but she stopped in her tracks when she found herself at gunpoint.

In her state of panic, she was, for a moment, convinced he tightened his finger around the trigger and before she had a chance to realize the stupidity of her action, she grabbed for the gun. With both hands wrapped around the barrel, she fought to keep it aimed anywhere but at her.

She felt her wrists give as her attacker twisted the gun in her grasp. In that same moment she heard the gun go off but she didn't realize what had happened until the perp foolishly let go of the weapon, staring at her in shock. Quick to turn the gun on him rather than herself, Stella only spared half a glance down, where the blood was already oozing form her outer thigh.

She felt lightheaded, but still running on adrenaline she near-screamed at the perp not to move. His attention shifted between her and the surrounding area, but he didn't move. Not until headlights coming down the road tore her attention from him for a split second, but it was enough for him to catch her unaware, shoving her out of the way once more as he set off in the direction she assumed Don and the other perp had headed.

As she tried to regain her footing by staggering a few steps backwards, the weight on her injured leg caused her to fall to the ground. As she landed on her butt, a sharp jolt of pain shot up along her back and only then did she become aware of the pain that numbed by adrenaline, felt like little more than a hard punch to the leg.

"Damn it!" She yelled, her hands fumbling uselessly around the wound. Unsure what else to do, she watched as the SUV came to a sudden stop in the driveway. Within a few seconds she saw Mac stumble out the drivers side door with a cry of her name that she'd only ever heard once before; when his aim had been to get her out of harms way in what they'd since then referred to as the death house.

He crashed to his knees by her side, shoving her hands out of the way as he tore the bullet hole in her trousers bigger to give him a better look at her injury. She saw the blood that had stained the fabric, but the severity of the situation hadn't gotten to her and she saw no reason for the worry in Mac's voice as he asked if she was dizzy. Instead she was angry; angry that he was wasting his time tearing strips of his shirt to stop the bleeding, when Flack was somewhere nearby, without doubt in danger.

"I'm fine. Find Flack." She said, but her voice was weaker than she had thought. He was right - she was dizzy, she could tell him that much, but how bad could it be when there was no burning, searing pain like she would expect? Instead she felt gradually number; a cold numbness that seemed to spread from the wound and outwards in time with the fog in her head getting thicker.

Maybe she wasn't fine. Maybe she was far from fine, but Flack was still unaccounted for and who was Mac to decide that Flack had to take care of himself?

She wanted to push herself up from the ground, determined that if Mac wasn't going to do anything then she was. But Mac's hands on her shoulders immediately pushed her back down.

"Sit down Stella." He told her firmly, and boy did she want to, in fact she was tempted to lie down right there. Trying to get up had taken more strength than she had had, but that couldn't be. She hadn't lost that much blood.

Satisfied that he had done everything he could to stop the bleeding, Mac wiped his fingers on his shirt, digging into his pocket for his phone. Soon trapping it between his shoulder and his ear as he waited for a reply.

"I have to…" Stella started, seeing that even after treating her wound Mac wasn't going to Flack's aid. However, her voice trailed off as he put his hand on her neck, his fingers feeling for her pulse.

"You have to calm down," He said, guiding her to lie down. "You're in shock."

"But… Flack." She said, wanting once more to push herself up but Mac kept her down with one hand gently on her shoulder, while he rattled of all the necessary details into his phone.

"Flack will be fine." He said, after shoving his phone back into his pocket. "I heard your call to dispatch, back-up is on its way."

"Okay…" She said, unsure if Mac had even heard her. Flack would be fine; Mac had said so. And lying down was good. It was what she needed. Just for a little bit until she stopped feeling sick.

* * *

When Flack had set off after the man who had held him at gunpoint, he had somehow been able to push the dizziness away, but now, as he climbed through the rubble, he felt unsteady on his feet.

He had heard Stella call after him as he took off, and for a moment he regretted not having stayed with her, though when he caught sight of his target, trying to hide further ahead in the rubble, his doubts disappeared and he lunged at him, wanting a tight hold of him so he wouldn't make another attempt at escape.

As the two came crashing down into the debris, the perp was fast to gain the upper hand landing a punch to Flack's ribs that left the detective winded and allowed the other man to stand up on his knees, his fist soon connecting with Flack's jaw.

Heaving for air after the punch to his ribs, Flack kicked at the perp's knees with all he had, effectively sweeping the man's legs away under him, leaving him face down in the rubble. Wasting no time to get up and sit astride the perp's legs, Flack leaned forward to grab his handcuffs from his belt when the sound of a gunshot echoed between the trees.

Flack's thoughts immediately went to Stella, who he had left entirely alone not even considering that there might be more than one attacker.

Taking advantage of the interruption the perp brought his elbow back and caught Flack in the nose. If he hadn't been dizzy already, he might've been able to maintain the upper hand, but the blow to the nose sent him backwards, and allowed the perp to easily push him back into the rubble and escape.

Flack lay there for several seconds, willing his head to stop spinning until he remembered the gunshot.

Slowly pushing himself up from the ground, he climbed back through the rubble using his hands to keep his balance, until he was finally on steady ground and able to set off, half-running toward the driveway, where Mac's SUV had been left with the engine running.

Calling out for Stella when he wasn't able to see her anywhere, his worries only got worse when it was Mac who shouted back, from the other side of the shed. Flack found him crouched next to Stella, who lay on the ground, thankfully conscious and able to respond.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Lindsay hovered near the ambulance where Hawkes was being examined by one of the paramedics. Even though, rationally, she knew she wasn't to blame for the crash, she couldn't prevent a small flicker of guilt from growing in the pit of her stomach. One she hoped would lessen once she was assured that Hawkes was okay.

She had already been examined and more or less cleared to work. The paramedics suspected she had a minor concussion: She'd been knocked out by the impact, but only for a few seconds before she had returned to a state of half consciousness. Conscious enough to hear a car come to a screeching halt nearby and loud voices approaching, but not awake enough to know whether they were there to help or to cause harm. She had turned to Hawkes, but finding him no more conscious than herself, she had instead brought her hand to try and wrestle her gun from the holster, though by the time she succeeded, the other car was already on its way away from the crash site.

It had taken her another moment to gather her wits enough to call in the crash and request a team at the scene, but not 20 minutes later the first people had begun arriving at the scene. Now, she was watching a technician take crime scene photos, after being informed that the trunk of the car had been forced open and the evidence stolen.

Hawkes had tried to get a hold of Mac while Lindsay was with the paramedic, but she had heard him leave a short message. It worried her that they had been unable to get a hold of him, especially as he had sounded concerned when he had taken the call from Stella.

Pushing her worries aside as a result of the turn of her evening, she instead decided to try and call Mac herself. He would want to be kept in the loop with something like this.

She pulled her phone from her pocket where she had safely tugged it, after checking to see if it had survived the crash, though like Hawkes, she was unable to get a hold of their supervisor.

"What the hell is going on?" she mused as she put her phone back where she found it.

"Couldn't tell ya," a paramedic said as he approached her, looking like he too had had a rough evening.

"I heard you were going to stay here and work, so I thought you might need this," he said, reaching out a Styrofoam cup. She accepted it, offering her thanks as the smell of coffee made her draw in a deep breath.

The cup warmed her hands as the paramedic excused himself and she was left to enjoy her coffee. The first gulp made her stomach rumble, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a while, but neither had Hawkes, so with a bit of luck they'd have a moment to grab a bite back at the lab.

She was halfway through her coffee when Hawkes finally joined her, watching the two technicians work around the scene as he passed them.

"Must be low on people tonight," he noted, before his attention fell on the cup between Lindsay's hands. "Doing coffee runs at a crime scene Linds?"

"Ah, no," she said, looking at the cup. "One of the paramedics brought it over. I must've looked tired."

They took another few minutes to catch up on the missing evidence and their equally elusive boss before they headed over to the crash site, to help the two technicians finish up.

* * *

At the hospital, Mac had been pacing the waiting room ever since they got in, even though the paramedics had told him that Stella was going to be fine. It was shock that had caused her dizziness and erratic behavior at the scene. The bullet itself had only hit her outer thigh, missing the femoral artery by lengths and as long as the force of the impact hadn't caused bone to splinter and hit the artery, she was only facing a fairly simple surgery. But the fact remained: She had been shot. That wasn't something he would ever take lightly, even though she hadn't seemed to consider it all that serious at the scene.

He had had his hands full trying to calm her down while Flack was still unaccounted for, but as the paramedics showed up, he had been about as useful as he had been at the scene in the first place.

He was still deciding whether or not to have a go at Don for getting her involved, but strictly speaking it wasn't his fault. He had been injured in the ambush as well, and had been whisked away by a nurse after having spent the first hour waiting with Mac to hear news about Stella.

Remembering that he had let his phone ring several times in the ambulance and at the scene, he decided to spend some of the wait at least checking for important messages.

If he'd thought the day couldn't possibly end worse for his team, the message waiting from Hawkes proved otherwise.

After telling the nurse at the counter that he would be back soon, if there was any news about Stella, he rushed off to the lobby to call Hawkes back.

"You're elusive today Boss, busy scene?" Hawkes asked sounding a bit winded himself.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Mac said, a heavy sigh escaping in the same breath. "I'm at the hospital. Stella was shot and Flack took quite the beating."

"What?" Hawkes asked, though he didn't as much as take a breath before he continued. "Are they okay? What happened?"

"The case turned out to be an ambush. A very poorly executed one, to Flack and Stella's luck." Mac went on to explain, silently thanking God that the ambushers had done such an amateur job. "Stella's in surgery, but it's not critical. And while Flack looks exactly like the beating he took, his injuries are superficial."

"Talk about a bad night, huh?" Hawkes asked, but receiving no response he began explaining the details of the crash and the car that forced them off the road.

"I told Lindsay to go home. She has a concussion and wasn't feeling well at the scene," Hawkes said. "I'm about to head back from the crash site now; I'll keep you informed. Give me a call when Stella's out of surgery, yeah?"

"Of course. Be careful Hawkes," Mac said, before he finished the call and headed back to the waiting room, where the nurse informed him that there was still no news about Stella. Instead Don came toward him after having been slumped in a chair in the far end of the room.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

"Had to give Hawkes a call. He and Lindsay were in an accident. They're both okay." Mac explained, giving Flack no time to reply before he continued. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Took a few hits, though nothing more than I deserve for rushing in like that," Flack said, combing his fingers through his hair. "And taking Stella along for the ride. Damn it!"

"I was going to lay into you about that," Mac said, prompting Flack to look at him with an eyebrow raised. "But it seems you're doing a good job yourself."

He was going to yell at Flack, he had decided that on his way back from the lobby, but after seeing him, it took little to figure out that he was already beating himself up about it. Mac was still angry that he had taken such a risk, but he was equally mad at Stella for going along with it. Though his worry for her had pushed the anger toward her aside for the time being, leaving only Flack to take the brunt of it, and that wasn't fair.

"I was stupid, Mac. There's no other way to put it," Flack said, glancing toward he nurse's station. "Is there any news?"

"No, not yet," Mac said. His own worries had risen after coming back to discover that she was, as far as the nurse knew, still in surgery. If it really was such a straightforward job, then why wasn't she in recovery yet? "But you heard the paramedics, she'll be fine."

"Yeah, yeah," Flack said, seeming as unconvinced as Mac as they both turned toward the doors to the ICU. Both hoping that if they stared at it desperately enough, the doctor would come through it with good news. So far that plan seemed a bust.

"I've been looking into a bunch of minor drug cases this afternoon," Flack said, breaking the spell that hat both of them afraid of looking away from the ICU. "They appear connected. At first I couldn't wrap my head around it, why'd this fairly connected gang go after low level dealers?"

"But now you've got an answer?" Mac asked.

"I suspect they're splitting up. If the low men on the totem pole wanted a business of their own, they would want to get some of their bosses' dealers off the streets," he said. "It would also explain this lousy job of an ambush."

"What did they want from you?" Pleased to have something other than Stella to busy his mind with, Mac led Flack over to a couple of chairs by the wall where they sat down to discuss the cases while waiting for news.

"Names," Flack said, distracted as the door they'd been watching opened, though it soon proved a false alarm. "They're looking for suppliers."

"Think that's why they went after your CI?"

"Yeah, he knew people in the right places. That's what landed him the CI deal in the first place," Flack explained. The two went on discussing the details of the more recent cases, both grateful for something to do.

* * *

At the lab, Hawkes pushed his way through the doors to the morgue, fatigue tearing at him though he knew he still had plenty of work to do, especially with Stella in the hospital and Lindsay sick at home. He didn't mind picking up some extra work when needed, certainly not under these circumstances and besides, he reasoned, it would be a nice bump on his paycheck the next month. Still, he was tired.

So much had happened in the past few hours that he had sort through his thoughts just to recollect the case he was currently assigned to. He had helped the lab techs finish up at the crash site, but the case he was actually working was still the body from the river.

"A little late Doctor Hawkes," Sid said with a look of mock disapproval, though he soon sensed that it wasn't the time. "You and Lindsay doing okay?"

"Yeah, she's at home. I called Danny to make sure he wakes her up every few hours just in case, but she should be fine," Hawkes explained, knowing it wasn't his place to interfere like that, but if the concussion was what made her sick, it had to have been worse than the paramedics assumed.

"And you?" Sid persisted.

"Hanging in there," Hawkes said, eager to move on to the autopsy results so he could get his work finished, though he knew Sid would want to know about Stella.

"I got a call from Mac earlier, he's at the hospital," he said, explaining what he knew about the events that lead to Mac and Stella being at the hospital. Sid, in turn, expressed his concerns, demanded to be kept in the loop about her recovery.

"What did you find on the river vic, Sid?" Hawkes finally asked.

"Sadly, very little," the ME said. "His fingerprints ID'd him. His name is Randy Thomson. He used to run with a gang, but hasn't been active in a few years. He was shot in the back of the head with this."

Sid turned away for a minute to retrieve a bullet in an evidence bag, which he then handed to Hawkes. "Other than that, I'm afraid the water did a good job messing with our evidence."

"Figures," Hawkes said. "It's never easy."

With that, and the promise of calling Sid as soon as he heard anything, he made his way back to the lab to get started in ballistics, hoping the bullet would at least give him something to work with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Mac had listened carefully when the doctor had explained Stella's condition to him, though there had been very little to explain. While the bullet had nicked the bone and caused a small fracture, there hadn't been any stray bone splinters to worry about. It had been an added complication to the removal of the bullet, but little more than that. She would escape with a couple of weeks off work and no fieldwork for a while.

After the doctor had left, leaving the bullet in Mac's care to be brought to the lab, Mac's attention had fallen on the small clump of metal in the bag, effectively fueling his anger. In their line of work they should know how little it took to change everything, and Stella had been damned lucky not to have her life altered permanently. Damn it, they should have known better.

"You coming?" Flack called from a few steps further down the hall. Mac followed him without a word, still trying to figure out how to deal with their misstep. He had already warded off internal affairs with a stern speech about how he could handle a matter this small when it involved his own team, though to him it wasn't as small an issue as he had wanted IAB to believe.

Stella was set up in a small, private recovery room and as the two men entered, they found her half-sitting up in the bed, already wearing a telltale look of impatience, having undoubtedly just been told that she wouldn't be let out of the hospital for a few days.

"Hey," she said as soon as she caught sight of them, offering a sleepy smile though it didn't take her long to notice the frown on Mac's face.

"I know." Was all she said. Mac shot her a puzzled look as he came to stop at her bedside, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, at least while Flack was present.

"What you're going to say," she finished, drawing another sigh from Mac, who up until then had managed to keep his emotions somewhat under a lid, but now he wanted nothing more than to raise his voice and get rid of the some of the emotions that had gathered as a lump in his throat. But he didn't.

"What were you thinking?" he asked. "What were either of you thinking?"

"I told you it was a stupid decision, Mac," Flack said, but Mac didn't want to hear that it was stupid or that they shouldn't have gone, he already knew those things. Part of him just wanted Stella to shut him down with one of her glares, but instead she averted her eyes and looked to Flack.

"Yes it was." Mac said at last. "Why didn't you run the case by me?"

"We did," Stella said, finally looking at him. "Look, Flack wanted to help this man's wife and frankly, chasing after the phone seemed like a wild goose chase, but it was something to do. We didn't think it warranted including the team."

"That's a lie, and you know it!" Mac told her. This time he did raise his voice, angry that she would sit there and lie to him, as if she hadn't know from the beginning that had they run it by him beforehand, they would've been told to wait and open a proper case. Not because of some protocol but because if they'd done so, neither of them would've ended up in the hospital.

Flack took half a step back, looking, and feeling, like a kid who had been caught up in something he shouldn't have. Stella on the other hand didn't flinch. She had never handled being told off very well and this time was no different. If Mac had been any less angry he might have taken that into consideration before he raised his voice.

He didn't get the chance to go on before the silence was broken by his phone and while there were countless other things he wanted to say, he knew the caller would likely be Hawkes with news about their case.

"I have to take this, but before I go; I know _you're_ not technically my employee to yell at. " Mac said to Flack before he turned back to Stella with a stern look, one that would have made her significantly smaller, if she hadn't been so annoyed with being called out in front of Flack.

"But _you_ should know better!" he told her. "It's not the first time you've pulled a stunt like this, and one of these days it's going to land you a formal complaint and then I cant protect you from internal affairs!"

It wasn't what he had wanted to say. He didn't give a shit about internal affairs or complaints, but it was the only thing the situation allowed him to say. Anything else would have to wait.

As he turned and left, both Flack and Stella heard him answer his phone before his voice disappeared down the hall.

"You two going to be okay?" Flack asked, when Mac was out of hearing range.

"We've had worse disagreements in the past," Stella said. "Of course it doesn't help that he's right."

"Yeah I know, I hate it when that happens," Flack said with one of his trademark smiles, but it faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. "He was really worried about you, you know."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I'm lucky to have him."

They fell silent after that. Flack stood for a while examining some medical equipment in the corner of the room, just to have something to do, while Stella sat lost in thought. She wondered just how much she had caused Mac to worry. Not just a little bit, she figured from his call for her at the scene. Even though she couldn't remember much past that point, she figured he would've been no less worried in the ambulance or at the hospital.

"Stella, you know I'm sorry, right?" Flack said, calling her attention back to the real world. "I got you into this."

"Come on Flack, don't do this," she said. "It was a stupid decision to rush in like we did, but I made that decision as much as you did."

Her attempt to reassure him was interrupted as Mac made his way back into the room.

"Hawkes and Lindsay found your missing CI," he said. The look on his face told the other two everything they needed to know. "Sid just finished the autopsy, I'm afraid we haven't got much to run with."

"We'll get whoever did this, wont we?" Stella asked, wanting to reassure Flack more than herself.

" _You_ wont do anything," Mac told her softly. "You're in the hospital and after that…"

"Oh no you don't," she said, raising her hand as if that would stop him from finishing his sentence. "Don't say it."

"Stella you were shot," he said. "A bump to the head is one thing, but there is no argument here; you're going on sick leave."

He spoke softly and somehow his hand had found its way to her shoulder, but even then, she wasn't about to let him win without some last remark.

"Fine," she huffed. "But if I lose my mind, it's on you. And I expect you to bring me breakfast, like I did for you," she added. Mac shook his head in defeat, well aware that Flack stood a few feet behind them, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I seem to recall you also bringing me paperwork," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze out of Flack's line of sight.

"You can bring me work as well," she told him with a wink. She hadn't even had to work for that one he had cornered himself. "But wouldn't that defeat the purpose of sick leave?"

"Good to see you're still your old self," he said. "But you're still on leave."

Not long after, Mac and Flack had to take their leave. There was enough work to do at the lab with two people out and Flack had a supervisor of his own he owed an explanation to, but not before he had been home to change his clothes and have an early breakfast.

* * *

Danny made his way back to the window, hoping that this time, he would finally see his mother letting herself in through the front door of their apartment building, but he saw nothing but the bare steps leading up to it.

"Damn it," he cursed, though mostly to himself as Lindsay had once more drifted off on the couch just a few feet away from him. "Where is she?"

With how Lindsay was feeling, he wasn't even sure she was supposed to fall asleep. Hawkes had called him earlier to remind him that, with her concussion, she should be woken up at least every few hours. That hadn't been an issue most of the night, as she had barely been able to sleep at all. Instead she had gotten gradually sicker as morning approached and finally, around 4am, Danny had called his mom to come look after Lucy, while he took his wife to the hospital.

His mother, however, was nowhere in sight and he was beginning to consider bringing Lucy with them to the hospital. It wasn't ideal, but with Lindsay drifting in and out of sleep like that, he couldn't wait any longer.

He knelt by the side of the couch and allowed his fingers to wander across her cheek. Her skin was flushed and warm, but he was more concerned that she was just lying there. It wasn't like her to be that weak. Usually, whether it was a common cold, stomach flu, heck even labor, she took it in her stride. She was his country girl; he couldn't handle her being like that. No, something had to be very wrong.

"Lindsay," he tried, gently nudging her cheek. When she didn't react he grabbed her arm, shaking her carefully. "Come on baby, wake up."

"Danny," She mumbled, before she was even half awake. "What…"

"I need you to stay awake okay?" he said, helping her to sit up as best as she could against the armrest of the couch. "Until we know what's wrong."

It couldn't be the concussion that made her so sick. She had gone form feeling slightly nauseous when Hawkes had sent her home, to being barely responsive over just a few hours.

"Come here, let's get you up," he said when Lindsay again seemed to drift off. Putting his arm around her waist, he tried to put his worries aside and focus on what needed to be done. He supported her as they walked to the kitchen, where he sat her down on one of the dining chairs. Even leaned over the table, it would take more for her to fall asleep there, than on the couch.

"I'm going to wake Lucy, then we'll all go to the hospital. We can't keep waiting." He said.

"No, Danny…" Lindsay protested. "She needs her sleep, your mom will be here."

"So she'll be a bit grumpy to be woken up, she'll be fine," Danny said, leaning in to place a kiss on the top of Lindsay's head. "Sit tight. I'm going to get our daughter and then we're going. I'm not waiting another minute when you're this sick."

With a text to his mother to meet them at the hospital instead, Danny got Lucy ready and soon he had his family packed into the car and heading off toward the hospital. Lucy was already drifting back off to sleep in her car seat, while Lindsay sat leaned against the window, replying to Danny's countless stupid questions with single syllables, but at least she was answering. By the time they arrived at the hospital she had gotten so annoyed with his questions that she had bluntly told him to shut it, but that hadn't stopped his stream of words, wanting simply to keep her awake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Even though most of his team was missing, the lab wasn't any quieter than usual, and somehow that made Mac even more painfully aware of their absence. After he had sent Hawkes home to get some rest, the only friendly face in the crowd was Adam, who was doing an impressive job keeping up with the rest of their caseload, while Mac focused on their two connected cases from the night before. Though as he waited for DNA results on blood the nurses at the ER had swabbed from Flack after the fight, Mac found his attention wandering to his phone.

Danny hadn't shown for his shift that morning. By lunchtime Mac still hadn't heard a word from him, despite having repeatedly tried to get in touch with him.

He had gotten a call from Flack, who was curious about his progress on the case about an hour earlier, but aside from that, the only times his phone called attention to itself, was when Stella sent the occasional text message, either reminding him to eat or complaining about the nurses refusing to let her get out of bed. In both cases a smile had tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he had recalled his promise to come see her later in the day.

He was glad she seemed to have accepted the idea of sick leave, but he knew he should be expecting at least a few protests by the time she was allowed to leave the hospital. He could handle that. If nothing else he could remind her how she had sounded when he had last been injured and had to go on sick leave. Though on second thought, he figured he probably shouldn't, as he had been back in the lab well before he had been cleared to do so. Stella did not need any inspiration for talking her way out of sick leave; she had already perfected that talent.

He brought his hands up to rub his temples as the computer kept working without yielding any results. Having gotten into a habit of sleeping regularly, he felt the effects of his sleepless night clearly, though when he caught sight of Danny shoving his way out of the elevator, his brain seemed to clear up.

"Danny!" he called as Danny passed the lab, quickly diverting his course into the DNA lab.

"I was just looking for you," Danny said.

"Where have you been?" Mac asked, sounding harsher than he had at first intended, but Danny _had_ picked a hell of a time to go AWOL.

"I was at the hospital…" Danny said, his voice trailing off as he brought his hand to his face, trying to find words. "Lindsay's very sick. They think she's been poisoned Mac!"

"Is she going to be okay?" It was the only thing Mac could think to ask. It couldn't be right. Hawkes had mentioned a concussion, but how in the world should she have been poisoned?

"They don't know," Danny said. "They're trying to identify the poison. Until they do, there's nothing else they can do."

"What are you doing here?" Mac asked. "You could've just called."

"I had to get outta there, Mac," the younger man said. "That's my wife and I can't do a damn thing, except sit around and wait. Half the time they won't even let me sit with her."

"Have the clothes she was wearing yesterday sent here, we'll figure this out," Mac said. Even though his mind was already racing, he didn't know where to begin to make sense of what had happened over the last 24 hours.

"Go be with her Danny," he continued. He understood Danny's need to get out of the hospital very well, there was nothing more unbearable than sitting around helplessly, waiting for news. At the same time, he knew it was where Danny needed to be. "Keep me in the loop".

Danny nodded before he went to leave, turning back when he reached the door as if he wanted to say something but simply didn't have the words.

"She's strong," Mac told him, hoping his words could at least give Danny something to hold on to. "She'll pull through."

* * *

At the precinct later the same day, they were finally making progress on at least one of their cases. The blood from Flack had given them a result; Frank Cooper, one of the suspects in the minor drug cases that had landed on Flack's desk, and also, evidently, one of the two men behind the ambush the previous evening.

Even for a guy who had just ambushed two police officers, he certainly wasn't among the brightest. They'd knocked on his apartment door, and there he was, as if he figured himself untraceable. Now, only an hour later, he was sitting alone in interrogation, faking indifference toward his current situation, Mac and Flack watching through the one-way window.

"Is it him?" Mac asked, looking toward Flack who didn't tear his attention from their suspect.

"Yeah, no doubt, that's the guy I was chasing," he said. "Mind if I handle this?"

"Go ahead," Mac said. A few seconds later he watched Flack walk into the interrogation room and sit down on the edge of the table. He leafed through the file in his hand for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to their suspect.

"Remember me?" he asked.

"Yeah, how can I forget the crap detective who tried to lock me up years ago?" their suspect asked. Mac saw Flack's hand tighten around the edge of the file, but he kept his cool. "Here to take another shot at that?" Frank continued.

"Right now, I'm tempted to take a shot at _you_ ," Flack shot at him. "That little stunt of yours last night left me in a bad mood."

"That's funny, I can't seem to remember what you're talking about," Frank said, leaning back in the chair, though it was clear to everyone that it was little more than an act.

"Give it up. We found your DNA," Flack said. "So tell me, did your buddy Archie have something to do with it too?"

Frank said nothing, but that didn't deter Flack.

"Your little ambush put a friend of mine in the hospital, and frankly I don't care who I get to blame for it, so either you tell me, or I'll book you for attempted murder," he said.

Mac stood outside, listening as Frank Cooper gave up his accomplice to avoid being tried for shooting Stella, though Mac got caught up at Flack's remark about attempted murder. He needn't more reminders about how close it had been, nor did he need more reminders that two of his people had had their lives on the line over the past 24 hours and one of them still had.

"Hey boss," Hawkes said from behind him, before he made his way up to the window. "I processed Lindsay's clothes from the accident. I got nothing."

"Damn it," Mac cursed. "Walk me through it. Did anything unusual happen last night? Did you stop to eat before the accident? Anything at all?"

"No, nothing like that," Hawkes said. "One of the paramedics brought Lindsay coffee while I was being patched up, I think that's all she'd had since lunch."

"Track down the paramedics who were called to the scene," Mac said, "Maybe that will give us something."

* * *

After a long discussion with one of the nurses and the promise of not bugging them about being released early, Stella had managed to negotiate permission to see Danny in the waiting room on a different floor of the hospital. Though not without the hassle of having someone locate a wheelchair for her and then after that, convincing the same person that she wouldn't need help making her way to a different floor.

Since Mac had called and told her what happened to Lindsay, she had been going out of her mind to go see them and make sure they were doing okay. Especially Danny, who Mac had mentioned hadn't been doing too well when he had dropped in at the lab. Although as Stella got out of the elevator and saw Danny sitting by himself near a window, looking at his phone, she realized she hadn't a clue what to say to him. Assuring him that Lindsay would be okay seemed dumb when he had been at the hospital with her all day and Stella knew nothing about her condition.

Sighing, she made her way over. If nothing else, her presence could give both of them a break from the monotonous hospital routines.

"Hey," she said, having nothing else to offer. Danny looked up from his phone, attempting a smile though he managed little more than a pained grimace.

"Been texting Lindsay's mom every half hour," he said, shrugging at his phone. "Nice wheels."

"I'll be rid of them soon enough," she said. "Doc says that if I play nice, I'll have crutches by the time I get outta here."

"You were lucky Stell," he said. Really just repeating what doctors and nurses frequently reminded her, but it struck a lot closer to home when coming from Danny.

"I know," she said. "So, how's Lindsay? Any news?"

"Yeah they uh, they identified the poison. They've started treatment, it looks better," he explained, before his attention sank back to his hands. "She told me to go home, but I just couldn't."

Stella put her hand on the back of his shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze. It was hard to believe the once so reckless Danny now sat, unable to leave his wife's side even when she demanded he did so.

"So how about you? Any pain?" he asked after a while.

"Nothing the painkillers they've got me on can't handle," she said. "Listen Danny, I spoke to Mac. He said the man who brought her the coffee was only posing as a paramedic."

"Yeah, I heard," Danny said. "That bastard."

"We'll get him Danny," Stella said, knowing very well that her words made no difference to him as long as Lindsay was struggling.

"I know. We always do, don't we?" Danny said." Damn it, I should've brought her here sooner."

"You did everything you could Danny, you couldn't have known," she said. She stayed with him for a while yet before she had to make her way back to her own room, knowing she wasn't allowed to stray for too long.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

"I can't wait to lock this bastard up and get this done with," Flack said, though it only took a glance at Mac, who sat tight-lipped behind the wheel of the car, to know the other man did not share his conviction that it would be that simple. They were on their way to pick up Archie Gibson, but everything that had happened, pointed to more than just Archie and Frank being involved.

"I see doubt?" Flack asked. He knew there were lots of things that didn't add up, but he was desperate to close the case before anyone else got hurt.

"Even if we prove this is the guy who shot Stella," Mac said. "I don't see motive for killing Randy Thomson. If they really wanted his connections, it'd be idiotic to kill him."

"These two guys aren't exactly smart," Flack said. "But I see where you're coming from. And the ambush serves for an airtight alibi when it comes to what happened to Hawkes and Lindsay. There's no way those two idiots made it back to town in time."

"Question is; who _did_ kill your CI and attack Hawkes and Lindsay?" Mac asked. Flack didn't reply. Instead Mac's question sent him down an unpleasant path, wondering exactly how many of these recent injuries could be tied back to his investigation.

"Looks like our back-up is late," Mac said as they pulled up to the building where Archie lived. Flack was the first to jump out of the car, but he stopped himself when he was about to make for the building. It wasn't until Mac suggested they wait for back-up outside their guy's apartment in case he tred to run, that he made for the door.

Their suspect lived on the 6th floor of an, by all standards, average apartment building. The only thing worth mentioning was the out of order elevator that had the two detectives walking up the stairs. They had barely reached the right floor when something sped up their pace; the sound of a gunshot coming from down the hall, in the direction of their guy's apartment.

No longer worried about waiting for back-up, Mac shoved the door open, Don close behind him. It was a small apartment and there was no sign of movement, only the sound of someone heaving for breath alerted the two that there was someone else there.

Mac was the first to rush to the far side of the bed, where their suspect lay, bleeding from a gunshot wound in his chest.

"Down the fire escape!" Mac shouted. Flack was quick to set off out the bedroom window, knowing Mac had the vic covered, but he had only made it onto the landing when he saw a guy leap from the first floor landing. Not willing to risk the same stunt from the 6th floor, Flack rushed down the stairs, but by the time he reached the street, all he saw was someone speeding away in a car.

He headed back upstairs after calling in a description of the car, only to find Mac already on his phone, calling in what was now the murder of Archie Gibson.

"We were too late," Mac said by the time he hung up the phone, though Flack had already realized as much. "and I just spoke to Hawkes, Lindsay's doing better – Danny says she's waiting for you to come take her statement."

"That's good," Flack said. "I'll to talk to her after we finish up here."

* * *

"I finally got a hold of my mom," Danny announced as he walked back into Lindsay's room. He was relieved that the nurses had left them alone, at least for the time being. With all the monitors and whatnot that Lindsay was hooked up to, he didn't see the need for people to come bother her every half hour, when she really needed to rest. "Her and Lucy will come by later, just for a bit."

Lindsay nodded, but she didn't seem as enthusiastic as he had expected. Of course, lying in a hospital bed, still too sick to eat was hardly exciting but she had wanted to see Lucy all day and she looked better than she had just hours earlier, even if she was still uncharacteristically quiet.

"What is it?" Danny asked. He made his way over and sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to take up too much space. "Are you okay?"

"Maybe they shouldn't come by," she said. Her voice was weak and even though they had been assured she was doing better, Danny couldn't help but worry.

"I thought you wanted to see Lucy," he said, for a moment he considered that she might be feeling worse and not up for a visit from their daughter.

"I did – I do," Lindsay said. She spoke slowly, but at least she was talking. "But do you think she'll be okay? I mean, seeing me like this?"

"She misses you as much as you miss her," Danny tried to assure her, even though his mother had voiced those exact concerns on the phone. But he was sure Lucy would be fine, and it wouldn't be long before she would start to really miss her mother anyway. "She'll be fine. We'll tell her you've been sick but you're okay."

"You might be right and I _do_ want to see her." Her voice was lighter this time and Danny's worries lessened. He was looking forward to Lucy's visit and was relieved that Lindsay seemed up for it as well. He had been home to check on their daughter once, but he still needed to see her, more than that; he needed to see her and Lindsay together. So much had happened over a very short space of time, that he hadn't managed to catch up to the fact that everything _would_ be fine. He hoped that being allowed a little time with his family would help.

He was about to suggest Lindsay got some rest before their visitors arrive, when Flack made his presence known with a knock on the half-open door.

"Woah Flack, what dragged you in?" Danny asked with a grin, glad to have the chance to tease his friend.

"You're real funny Messer," Flack threw at him, before he turned his attention to Lindsay. "How are you doing Lindsay, are you up for answering some questions?"

"Sure," she said. And soon Danny took his leave, wanting to take the chance to get something to eat, while Flack was keeping Lindsay company.

* * *

Hawkes sat in the lab, watching as the computer ran through their print databases, looking for a match to the print he had found. After it had become clear that the man posing as a paramedic was behind poisoning Lindsay, Hawkes had rushed to the precinct garage, in the hopes that the squad car Lindsay had been given a ride home in hadn't been cleaned yet. Much to his luck it had just been cleaned, but the trash was still within his reach, and therefore so was the Styrofoam cup that had held the poisoned coffee.

He had found a few prints, most of them belonging to Lindsay, but after eliminating those he had a single print from their mystery paramedic left to work with. It was the most solid lead they had after Lindsay had only been able to give Flack a sketchy description of the guy.

"Find anything?" Mac asked as he walked into the lab, having been gone for the past hour.

"Found a print on the cup, just waiting for the computer now," Hawkes said. "You just back from dinner?"

"Yeah, I went by the hospital to see Lindsay and smuggle food in for Stella," Mac said with a shrug, his attention was already on the screen but he didn't miss the knowing look Hawkes gave him. "She's sick of the hospital stuff," Mac explained, though that didn't deter Hawkes.

"After one day?" he asked. He hadn't had time to drop by and see her, but it didn't take much effort to imagine Stella being utterly bored at the hospital.

"You know Stella," Mac said. "Being confined to a hospital room with nothing to do for any amount of time goes against her nature. But it sounds like she'll be released in the morning."

"Good, that's good," Hawkes said. "I'm sure the hospital staff are pleased they wont have to deal with either of you anymore."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mac asked, giving Hawkes a puzzled look, though Hawkes pretended not to notice.

"Well, you have been spending an unusual amount of time at the hospital lately," he said. He could've sworn he saw something akin to a smile on his boss' face, but it quickly disappeared when the computer called attention to itself.

"It seems like the computer just got you a match," Mac said, pleased to have avoided the previous topic.

"Yeah, it seems to be the same guy you were able to link to the murder of Archie Gibson." Hawkes said. "Which is good, now we can prove the cases are connected."

Mac didn't seem to share Hawkes' enthusiasm; instead he stood by the computer, wearing the look that had become infamous for meaning 'cancel your plans'.

"Something bothering you boss?" Hawkes asked, for all he knew they were getting close to closing the case.

"If the guy who killed Archie Gibson is the same guy who killed Randy Thomson, he's already proven that he'll stop at nothing to prevent the case from being solved," Mac said. "I'll have protection assigned for you and Lindsay."

"And Flack and Stella?" Hawkes asked.

"I don't think that's necessary," Mac explained. "The only men they would be able to identify were the men behind the ambush, one of whom is in our custody, the other in the morgue."

"Well, we got a name, that's something we can move on, isn't it?" Hawkes asked.

"I got something better," Flack said, announcing his arrival at the lab. "So get this; over the past few weeks, Narcotics have been investigating a series of connected drug crimes, their main suspects? The three remaining gang members, from the case I worked with Randy years ago."

"This supports your splitting up theory," Mac said. "If Archie and Frank weren't in on these deals, it makes sense they'd try to start their own."

"Oh yeah," Flack said. "But it gets better. Narcotics got a tip about a big deal going down tomorrow. It's a major operation; they're going in with everything they got. With a bit of luck we'll have our guys in custody by tomorrow afternoon."

"Do you think Narcotics will just give up their arrest?" Hawkes asked.

"Well, the way I see it; they get credit for the bust, but wont have to deal with the paperwork," Flack said. "And if it comes down to it, homicide trumps narcotics."

"I'm headed over to the lead detective on the case to negotiate our involvement," He continued. "I'll keep you posted."


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm terribly sorry it has taken me so long to get this final chapter up, but here it (finally) is! :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 7:**

It had taken him quite a bit of convincing to get the narcotics detective to agree to his plan, but finally, a few hours before lunch the next day, Flack found himself outside the warehouse where the deal was going down. The lead detective on the case had already briefed them and now they were simply waiting for a signal from their inside guy before they could move in.

Flack had called and informed Mac on the time and place for the bust as soon as he had known, but it wasn't until the lead detective had finished his briefing that Flack saw Mac come half running toward them, from the SUV that he had parked at a safe distance.

"Sorry," he said as he reached Flack. "I got held up at the hospital."

"Did Stella get home okay?" Flack asked. He had been looking forward to her getting out of the hospital possibly even more than she had. As long as she had been stuck in a hospital bed, it was hard to convince himself that she was really okay.

"Yeah," Mac said. "But the doctor made the mistake of telling her she wont be going in the field for a few months. She's not happy."

"She was shot," Flack said. "I though that was a given."

"You know her," Mac said with a shrug, but it was clear to anyone that he wasn't as casual about her injury as he wanted to appear.

"That I do," Flack said before he went on to give Mac the run-down on the briefing that he had missed.

A few minutes later they rushed in, Mac and Flack hanging back behind the others as they had been made to promise. It wasn't their case yet and the lead detective had made it very clear that heads would roll if they jeopardized the case the narcotics team had worked on for weeks.

Everything went down faster than expected; suspects were being pinned down and thrilled detectives were calling out about the number of kilos they had found. Flack's attention, however, fell on one guy trying to slip out of a door in the back. He recognized him from the case files he had spent the entire previous evening studying and he'd be damned if he let one of the guys that he and Mac were there to catch get away. He set off after him, not bothering to call for back-up – he couldn't risk the suspect getting away because of him wasting valuable time. He made it to the stairs just in time to cut the guy off from running out the backdoor.

Although Flack hadn't noticed, Mac had seen him rush after their guy. By the time Mac had set off after Flack and made it through the backdoor into a stairwell, the two other men weren't in sight. He could hear footsteps running above him, and knew the suspect had opted to run for the roof. He, too, set off up the stairs, remembering the risks Flack had already taken on this investigation. If he could help it, Mac wasn't about to let him take another one.

Shoving the door open with his shoulder, he stumbled out onto the apparently empty roof. If it hadn't been for voices on the other side of the small building containing the stairwell, he would've been at a loss.

"Drop your weapon!" He heard Flack roar, but as he reached the other side of the building, the two men were already in a heated stand-off. Guns fixed at each other. Mac was about to make his presence known as the suspect tightened his finger on the trigger, it was no more than a split-second reaction that had Flack's bullet hit the perp, before he in turn could've shot Flack.

The next few seconds passed in silence as Mac went over to check for vitals on the perp, kicking his gun away in the process. Flack who had already holstered his gun stood numbly and watched the man he had shot just a few seconds earlier.

15 minutes later they were both outside the building. Both had given their initial statement, and while Flack had already been called in for an informal assessment, they both knew the shooting warranted little more than an evaluation.

Mac hadn't said much after getting confirmation that their remaining two gang-members were in custody, but it hadn't take Flack more than a glance in his direction to see that he was furious. He might not be a man who was easy to read, but anger was an emotion that even Mac couldn't hide that well.

"What the hell happened Flack?" he finally asked as they stopped a few feet from Flack's car.

"One of our guys made a run for it, I caught him," Flack said, but he knew there was no way Mac would leave it at that. He shouldn't either.

"You shot him," Mac said.

"It was him or me, Mac." Flack threw at him, but it did nothing to soften the hard stare Mac gave him.

"If you had called for back-up like you should, it might not have been him or you." Mac raised his voice, though not enough to call the other officers' attention to them.

"If I hadn't been right on his tail, he would've had time to get out of the building and not just to the roof." Flack said. He had made it to the stairs just in time to cut the guy off from running out the back door.

"We had his name and his home address. We still would've caught him eventually," Mac said. His voice was filled with anger, but it wasn't the calm, controlled anger that had the ability to cause any lab employee to break into a cold sweat. Instead it was laced with worry.

"And in the meantime?" Flack asked. "I had to end this before I got more of your people in the hospital!"

"And if you'd gotten yourself in the hospital? Or the morgue?"

That was all that needed to be said, Flack ducked into his car and headed back to the precinct, leaving Mac well aware that he had made his point and quite possibly a lot harsher than he should have.

It didn't take a genius to see that Flack falsely blamed himself for the whole ordeal and Mac had done nothing but add fuel to that fire with his anger. But damn it, it was his people who had been put at risk, and while Flack wasn't technically one of his people, he certainly was a part of his team and he wasn't about to let him run a stupid risk because of some false feeling of guilt.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the narcotics department was finished with their two suspects and Mac once again stood outside the interrogation room, watching the man they had linked to the poisoning blatantly refuse to answer any of Flack's questions.

Despite still being angry with Flack for running that stupid risk, Mac had decided to stand back and let Flack handle the interrogation, hoping it would bring him enough closure that he might be able to stop beating himself up about the case.

"You don't need to say anything," Flack told their suspect, hovering right behind his chair. "We already got you. Your prints are all over the crime scenes, sloppy work, let me tell ya."

The suspect didn't flinch, he just sat there, staring at the same corner of the table he had been studying for the past several minutes, but that didn't deter Flack.

"We got you and your buddy for the murders of Randy Thomson and Archie Gibson, but we can pin you personally to the poisoning and attempted murder of my colleague." Flack said, this time their suspect did shift somewhat uncomfortably.

"You know, I think I know how it all went down." Flack continued. "Frank and Archie got sick of sharing the profit, they wanted to split but I imagine none of your suppliers were interested in taking part in those plans. So they needed Randy for his connections."

The suspect remained quiet without even bothering to return Flack's look.

"Oh you needn't add anything, I got this covered," Flack said. "You see that's why they went to pick him up that night, they wanted to offer him a deal, but you caught wind of it. I'm guessing from one of your suppliers, and suddenly it's a matter of damage control."

Flack sat down across from the suspect and leaned over the table.

"You and your accomplices killed Randy, but you left it to Frank and Archie to get rid of the body."

"Shouldn't have trusted those two morons with shit," The suspect finally said.

"You're right. Their crappy dump job didn't leave you enough time to cover your tracks, so you got desperate. You stole the evidence and poisoned my colleague all to buy yourselves some time. Instead you dug your own grave." Flack said. "While you were running around covering tracks, Frank and Archie put together the ambush, knowing their time, too, was limited.

"Using Randy Thomson's phone, that you had left them in charge of disposing of, they lured my partner and I into their little trap," Flack continued. "So you had to kill them, they were too dangerous in their stupidity. But we got to Frank before you did. And I can assure you, with the odds he's facing, he'll be happy to corroborate this story in court."

* * *

It had been two days since Flack had walked out of interrogation finally able to close the case, and by now the repercussions from the shooting were slowly blowing over. The press had long moved on from the drug-bust and Flack had been called out on several new assignments since then. Yet there were still a few things left for him to deal with; one of them was a sincere apology to the partner he had pulled into the line of fire. Which was why he now found himself heading down the hall toward her apartment, a bag of Chinese food in his hand, having long ago learned that the particular dish he had brought was her favorite.

He knocked on her door, though receiving nothing but silence, he wondered if he had gotten something wrong. He had called her to make sure she was home, though he had left out the part about bringing food, figuring a surprise treat was in order.

Knocking a second time, he soon heard her voice from inside her apartment.

"Coming," she called out. "Slowly."

Happy to hear that she was at least taking it with a bit of humor, he waited as she pulled the door open. She had gathered both crutches in one hand in order to open the door and now stood leaned against those, her other hand still resting on the door handle.

"I brought food," Flack sad, holding up the bag for her to see.

"Fantastic," Stella said, gently hopping aside on her good leg to let him into the apartment, easily readjusting her balance with a crutch in each hand, after shutting the door behind them.

"So, are you just using those because you're afraid I'll rat you out to Mac if you don't?" he asked as they made their way into the kitchen, where she directed him to the cabinets he needed in order to set the table.

"Something like that," she told him with a smirk. "No, as much as I hate to admit it, they're necessary for a while yet."

"How's the recovery coming along?" he asked, watching as she took a seat and balanced the crutches off the edge of the table.

"According to plan," she said. "The doc says I'll most likely avoid any serious lasting effects. Aside from, of course, quite the scar to show off in a dress."

"Good, that's good," Flack said, hoping she didn't notice the sigh of relief as he dug through her drawer to find a pair of forks.

"Yeah," she said, thoughtfully. "From such close range I was extremely lucky the bullet didn't fracture the bone, or I would've been out of the field for at least 6 months."

"Yeah, that's the worst thing that could've happened – more sick leave," Flack said, drawing a chuckle from her, but what could've been a somber possibility, with just a slightly different trajectory, hung over them for a few seconds as Flack finished setting the table.

"So," Stella said as Flack sat down across from her and they started their meal. "I got a call from Lindsay earlier, she's finally back at home."

"No more complications?" Flack asked. It had taken the doctors some time to get Lindsay's condition completely under control, most to Danny's frustration.

"It was up and down for a while, but it's finally all out of her system and the doctors felt safe sending her home," Stella explained.

"Tough case for your team," Flack said.

"Tough case for you as well," she reminded him. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he said. "More or less – I spoke to Randy's wife the other day."

"How is she?" Stella asked, though Flack could tell she probably already knew the answer.

"Grieving. Angry," Flack said. "She blames me."

"Do you?" Her words were spoken softly as she looked at him from behind her take out box, but he knew there was a mild reprimand hidden somewhere behind them.

"What, did you minor in mind-reading?" he asked.

"Gotta pass time somehow," she told him with a smile. "You didn't answer."

"I don't know, Stell. I shouldn't. Randy refused protection, there was nothing I could do," he said. "I think Mac blames me for getting you hurt. He should, too."

"Don't let him get to you," she said softly. "He blames himself as well, for not arriving a few minutes sooner."

"Can't be his fault."

"Can't be yours either," Stella said. "It's one of the dangers of the job, simple as that Flack. Besides, I had it covered. More or less," she added with glint in the eye, finally drawing a chuckle from him. "You just thank God you wont have to be at the lab when I'm confined behind a desk for two months."

By the time they had finished eating, their conversation had turned to much lighter subjects, and it was with some regret that Flack began the task of getting everything cleaned up, not wanting to leave a mess for her to deal with later.

Even as he stood with his back halfway turned to her, he saw the unconscious smile that formed on her face as her phone lit up on the corner of the table. He waited for her to reply to whatever message had caused her to smile, before he turned to face her.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, prompting her smile to grow even bigger though she tried to suppress it.

"Oh, nothing, just a message," she said.

"Expecting company?" he asked, holding her crutches out for her before they made their way into the living room.

"Not right now," she said. They went on chatting about her recovery and what physical therapy she would need, until it was time for Flack to take his leave. Refusing the notion that he could see himself out, Stella followed him to the door, where she made him promise to come by again soon so she wouldn't lose her mind entirely, before they said their goodbyes and he made his way back toward the elevator.

The building had quieted down significantly since he had arrived a few hours earlier, most people having long locked themselves inside their apartments for the evening, though as he reached the lobby of the building a couple of people were engrossed in conversation by the mail slots, while another made his way through the front door, headed for the elevator.

Knowing, suddenly, who was behind the message that had made Stella smile so secretively, Flack raised his arm in greeting.

"Hey, Mac," he called as the older detective approached him. "You're out late. Here to see Stella?"

"Who else?" Mac countered with a half smile. "Just wanted to see how she's doing."

"Sure," Flack said giving Mac the most skeptical glance he could muster up, one Mac returned with a puzzled look. "If you just want to see how she's doing, you come by in the afternoon, not at 10.30 in the evening."

"And your point, Flack?" Mac asked, not quite able to maintain the frown on his face.

"Nothing," Flack said. "It seems she's expecting you, best not keep her waiting."

"Better not," Mac said. "Goodnight Don."

"Goodnight," Flack said as they turned each their way, though Mac soon called Flack's attention back to him.

"Flack," he called. "Keep this to yourself."

Nodding solemnly, Flack watched as Mac disappeared into the elevator, before he himself headed out into the street; unable to contain a small chuckle at the secret he had inadvertently been let in on.

Wondering how to hint at Danny that he knew something he wasn't supposed to tell, without accidentally letting Danny in on it, he headed for the nearest subway station. He was more than ready to head home and get a good night's sleep himself.


End file.
